


the closest to heaven that i'll ever be

by whalefairyfandom12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coda, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, fuck this shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalefairyfandom12/pseuds/whalefairyfandom12
Summary: “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” the man says. “I assumed you’d want some time to adjust.”Dean finally snaps his mouth shut. “Who are you?” is all that comes out, because there’s no fucking way Cas can be here and surely this has to be some kind of trick. Maybe he’s in Hell after all.A wry smile twists the man’s face, and it looks so wrong Dean wants to punch him. “Castiel. Haven’t we done this already?”“Castiel--Cas, sacrificed himself for his family,” Dean spits. “You don’t deserve to use his face, you fucking coward.” He searches the room for some kind of weapon, anything he can use to decapitate the ghoul or whatever monster he is.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 84
Kudos: 1011





	the closest to heaven that i'll ever be

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Supernatural fic in years but congratulations! You pissed me off enough my depression slump was cured enough to write a fix it fic. Anyway Sam and Eileen reunite and they create a new Men of Letters/hunting network dedicated to training and protecting young hunters. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

Heaven isn’t what Dean expected. And he’s died quite a few times, so he’d know. It’s nice; he’s got unlimited beer and his baby’s tank never runs out, but he’s lonely. He misses Sam, and he misses Cas. The music never stops and the road never ends, but the passenger seat always stays empty. It’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative (again, Dean’s something of an authority when it comes to dying) but there’s a _yearning_ that no number of burgers or miles on the road will fill. 

Evenings spent with Bobby help, and he visits his parents, but Bobby has Ellen and John and Mary have each other. Dean is always the odd one out, again. It’s never too long before he’s back on the road, singing to some Zepp and ignoring the ever present ache. 

It's on the drive home from his parents that Dean finds himself in front of the barn. He huffs, slamming a hand against the Impala’s wheel. How ironic--here at the end of all things and he’s back where he died. He turns off the engine and steps out. Might as well see whatever _his subconscious (_ or whatever Bobby called it) wants him to see. 

Strangely, the closer he gets the less it looks like the site of his death and more like another barn, over a decade ago. Dean grimaces. He wants to know his subconscious' thoughts on Cas even less. Among the laundry list of things he avoids thinking about, is that while Sam will join him soon enough, Cas never will. He’s in the Empty forever. Because of Dean. 

He pushes open the door and stops dead. A dark haired man in a battered, beige trenchcoat is standing in the center of the building. He smiles as Dean approaches.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me,” the man says. “I assumed you’d want some time to adjust.”

Dean finally snaps his mouth shut. “Who are you?” is all that comes out, because there’s no fucking way Cas can be _here_ and surely this has to be some kind of trick. Maybe he’s in Hell after all.

A wry smile twists the man’s face, and it looks so wrong Dean wants to punch him. “Castiel. Haven’t we done this already?”

“Castiel-- _Cas,_ sacrificed himself for his family,” Dean spits. “You don’t deserve to use his face, you fucking coward.” He searches the room for some kind of weapon, anything he can use to decapitate the ghoul or whatever monster he is. 

The man frowns, head tipping to the side in confusion like Dean had seen thousands of times. “Dean, I can assure you, it’s me.” Dean shields his eyes at the sudden flash of lightning, gaping as the shadow of _Castiel’s_ wings flicker behind him. Holy shit. “I’m sorry for not approaching you sooner. I thought it best to wait until you found me.”

“Cas?” Dean asks intelligently. His brain has stopped working. Anything he might’ve wanted to say (fuck you you fucking bastard, I love you too,) has more than disappeared.

Cas--because somehow, miraculously, that’s who he is, drops his eyes to the floor. “I understand. You don’t reciprocate my feelings. I’ll leave you be. But I want you to know.” Here he looks up at Dean again, voice growing in confidence. “That nothing has changed. Jack may have brought me back from the Empty, but I’d made peace with my death. And I would make the same choice until the end of time.” His tone softens. “You have always been worth saving, Dean.”

“I hadn’t,” Dean snaps, and that isn’t what he’d meant to say at all. “‘Made peace’ with your death. Did you ever stop and think about Sam? About Jack? I had to tell them you were gone, and it was all my fault.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You just sprung that shit on me. You didn’t even give me a chance to _think._ A chance to say--” He shakes his head, and ridiculously tries not to blush. Thank fuck Sam isn’t here or he’d never live this down. “You know.”

Cas shakes his head, looking so fucking earnest it hurts. “I know many things, Dean. I'm older than you could ever imagine. But you Winchesters, I could never know.” He smiled. “None of us could.”

“You meant it?” Dean asks, feeling like a fucking high schooler again. “All of it?” 

“With all my heart.” Cas frowns. “Well, heart may not be the correct term. Really I’m more a collection of energy and light created by--” His eyes widen, words stuttering to a halt as Dean slams into him, pulling him into a hug. 

“I missed you, man,” Dean says, valiantly trying not to cry. This was already painfully chick flick. Cas hugs him back just as tightly, and he thinks that might be a lost cause. Secretly, he’s okay with that. After all, he’s already dead.

“I missed you too,” Cas says gently. “More than I could fathom.” 

It’s just now registering in Dean’s mind that _holy shit, he’s dead._ There’s quite literally, nothing left to lose. He steps back far enough to meet Cas’ eyes, swallowing. “I love you too.” It’s a quiet admission, not as sure as Dean would like, but he says it and that’s what matters. 

Cas’ eyes widen. “As in--”

Dean summons all his courage and presses their lips together, hand fisting the front of Cas’ stupid trenchcoat. He pulls away, heart pounding concerningly loudly for a dead guy. “As in that,” he says hoarsely. “Does that answer your question?”

Cas smiles, a bright, beautiful thing that slowly blossoms into an all out grin. Dean would make fun of him if he wasn’t sure he looked just as ridiculous. “I see,” he says, before kissing Dean again. 

This time when he leaves, the passenger seat isn’t empty. 


End file.
